


Senseless

by LittleLinor



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Additional cattrapshipping, Alternate Universe - Loveless Fusion, M/M, technically most of the cast is there but this specific fic focuses on keyship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For fourteen years, Astral has waited for the Sacrifice his strength and skill would belong to. When he finally comes, he's everything Astral himself isn't, and everything he didn't expect.</p>
<p>A loveless crossover</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At first sight

**Author's Note:**

> This fic isn't actually the first one in [my loveless au](http://usedempyrealthunder.tumblr.com/tagged/the-loveless-au-no-one-needed), but it's the first chronologically. Note that it retcons slightly some older drabbles, as the actual plot is coming together more.  
> If you have any questions about the au, don't hesitate to ask!
> 
> Content warnings for everything you'd expect to find in a Loveless universe: heavy implications of abuse and the PTSD that results from it, underage sex, violence, codependent relationships. However, this fic itself doesn't have any sexual content.
> 
> This chapter is Astral's POV, the next one will be Yuuma's.

The boy they usher in is short, fidgety like a small animal held in too small a space, and sports wide, curious eyes that, in your opinion, speak more of being dangerously naive than of any so-called “innocence.”  
Somewhere the glimmer of hope you still somehow held that your life would get better dies. You had hoped your sacrifice would be someone… “special” might be too strong a word, but you had expected some kind of likeness, some shared traits or goals. If you were at least paired with someone strong, maybe you could move forward, instead of being held in this empty limbo forever. This child, you think, is only going to hold you _back_. It's over.  
His eyes meet yours, and somehow they widen even more.  
You hold his gaze.  
“His name is Yuuma Tsukumo,” your teacher says, nudging him forward. “Well, introduce yourself.”  
You don't stand from your chair. What little ability to care you have doesn't seem to want to come to you today.  
“My name is Astral.”  
He blinks.  
“Just Astral?”  
You shrug.  
“It probably counts as a code name, I suppose. But that is how I have been called for the last fifteen years.”  
“Oh.” He grins, then, something goofy and a bit forceful. “Just call me Yuuma, then. Nice to meet you!”  
He holds out his hand towards you, palm slightly angled up, and that's when you see the letters etched into his skin, almost hidden inside the curve of his palm.  
 _Senseless_.  
He's noticed the way your eyes lingered over it, and almost pulls his hand back, but you sigh and take it, giving it the slightest of acknowledging squeezes before letting go.  
“Um—” He pulls his hand back and unconsciously pulls it behind his thigh as he looks at your own hand, failing at subtlety. “They told me we had the same name? Don't you have it in the same spot as me—I'm not sure how this stuff works.”  
Wordlessly, you raise your other hand, the left one, letting him see your own name on it.  
Without warning, he moves forward again, his right hand shooting towards yours as if to grab it. You haven't noticed you've started to pull back until he stops, in mid-air.  
“Sorry—is it okay?”  
You blink.  
“What do you mean?”  
“If I take your hand—I just want to look.”  
There's something strange about this boy, and you're not quite sure what. So you hold out your hand again, and let him take it.   
He turns it around carefully and traces the name with one finger.  
“Huh, it's true.”  
“Of course.”  
“Hey, I'm new to this stuff, okay!”  
“I'm not.”  
A cough interrupts you.  
He jumps, as if he'd forgotten there was anyone in the room outside the two of you. You only turn your eyes towards your teacher, awaiting orders.  
“You'll be rooming together. Tsukumo, you have your essentials, don't you?”  
“Yeah, I have a bag.”  
“The rest of your clothes should arrive tomorrow or the day after. Astral!” he calls, dismissing Yuuma to focus on you.  
“Yes.”  
“Your new room is on the third floor, 39. Show him around.”  
You nod.  
“Yes sir.”

“This place is weird,” Yuuma declares a few minutes into your tour of the school.  
“Is it?”  
“Well _yeah_? It doesn't feel that much like a school. And everyone's different ages…”   
“I wouldn't know.”  
“You've never been to another school?”  
“No.” You hold back a sigh. You thought him shy based on his fidgeting, but once out of sight of your teacher's gaze, the fidgeting turned to full fledged movement, endless curiosity, and non-stop babbling. “There was no need for it. The academic teaching is adapted to one's level, not age.”  
“Wait, so how long have you been here, then?”  
“As I said. Almost fifteen years. My brother and I were brought here when we were four.”  
His eyes widen.  
“ _Four_? But that's so young—you should've been in kindergarten…” You're about to ask if he must always state the obvious, when he changes tracks abruptly. “Wait, you have a brother?”  
“A twin brother, yes.”  
“Can I meet him?”  
“I doubt that's a good idea.”  
“What? Why?”  
“Are you eager to get hazed on your first day?”  
“Huh?”  
“Bullying people is his favourite hobby. If you know nothing of this school and its rules, you're the perfect prey for him. I wouldn't go anywhere near him until you've grown a thick skin, if I were you.” You sigh. “Although I have no doubts that he'll find his way to you on his own.”  
“Oh.” He stays silent for approximately five steps, then pipes up again. “So what _are_ the rules, then?”  
“Actual school rules, like meal hours and expected behaviours, should be written in the booklet they gave you when you were admitted. As for the rest… how much have you been told about the reason you're here?”  
“This name thing?”  
You nod.  
“Um, so… people with a special power are linked by names… there's some kind of bond… that power can be used to fight spell battles—but they haven't told me how to do that.”  
“The actual spells are my responsibility as a fighter. You needn't worry about them for now—not about casting them, at any rate.”  
“Yeah, about that, what's the deal with that fighter-sacrifice thing? Why have one person do nothing? Wouldn't you be more powerful if both people fought?”  
“Tell me. How efficient do you think a gun would be if you shoved cloth down its barrel, or doused it in water?”  
“Uhhh…”  
“If you attempt to fight while suffering the effects of your opponents' restrains, you will be slowed down, and that fraction of second can mean life and death. That is why the fighter fights in your stead. Even if your hands tremble, as long as you can direct us, then your weapon will still strike true. That is a fighter's purpose.”  
He stays silent.  
“… so you're my fighter then, huh?” he finally says after a wordless flight of stairs, voice quiet.  
“It seems so, yes.”  
“… so what can _I_ do, then?”  
“Aside from lending me your power and trust in battle, there is little you actually _need_ to do. That being said, with experience, a talented sacrifice can read the opponent's movements and tactics ahead of time, and help direct their fighter. Resilience is also key, of course, but that is less a matter of doing and more a matter of nature.”  
“… by resilience, you mean...”  
You stop, and turn towards him.  
“… they did warn you that a sacrifice's role would involve weathering both pain and psychological attacks, did they not?”  
The sudden doubt makes you uncomfortable. They _should_ have, but if they held back the details to convince his parents…  
As frustrating as being stuck with him is, you don't think Yuuma is a bad person. The idea that they might have used his naiveté against him feels… wrong.  
To your relief, he nods.  
“Yeah, they told me.”  
“How you react to being hurt or restrained, how much you can control your fear, will influence how quickly you can be incapacitated. The more resilience you show, the better I can counterattack. On the other hand, if you panic, the bond between us will supply me with less firepower, and if my spells weaken from it, in turn it makes it harder for me to protect you. Do you understand?”  
“Yeah, makes sense.”  
“Good.”  
You reach the third floor.  
“Here,” you say, opening the door to room 39, “you can put your bag down. We'll tour the rest of the school afterwards.”  
He thanks you and steps in, and you follow, taking in the sight of the room.  
It's larger than you expected. Larger than the one you're in right now, at any rate, even though you used to share it with Ninety-six. You suddenly wonder if his current room is like this one—somehow, in the three years since he's moved out, you've never set foot in it. You never had a reason—and, to be completely honest, you're not entirely comfortable with the possibility of finding them in a compromising position.  
This room has bunk beds, though, and you wonder how they deal with _that_.  
Yuuma, however, brightens up at the sight.  
“Can I get the top one?” he asks, all but hopping in place.  
“If you want.”  
“Yesssss...”  
He drops his bag on the floor and launches himself up the ladder with too much energy and surprising grace.  
“Oh, hey, the bed's actually not bad.”  
You resist the urge to tell him to move his bag (he's not your brother, you remind yourself, you should be less callous), and make your way to the lower bed instead, sitting on its edge. There's a fair amount of room before the other wall, where the two desks are, enough that you could probably lie down between them and your bed if you wanted. Next to the door, a large closet door. And next to the desks, just before the last wall, another door, leading to what you believe is a bathroom.  
There are two windows. It feels like luxury.  
“… that's weird.”  
You sigh.  
“What is?”  
Yuuma's head drops right in front of you from above, hair hanging down. You barely manage not to jump. Blessed be your battle reflexes.  
“Why's none of your stuff there? You knew I was coming, right?”  
“I was informed that they had found you a couple of weeks ago. I did not know you would come today precisely until I was summoned earlier.”  
His eyes widen.  
“Really?”  
You hold his gaze, not feeling like an answer is actually necessary.  
“… but… why not tell you earlier and let you move your stuff?”  
“I have no doubt it will be moved within a few hours.”  
“… and you're okay with that?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“People handling your stuff? Like, having strangers just move your things around.”  
You look away.  
“… I'm used to it.”  
He stares at you in silence, a small, pouty frown on his face.  
“… let's go get it.”  
“What?”  
You look up, but he's already brought his head back up, and is sliding down the ladder.  
“Your stuff! If we go now, we can move everything before anyone else does. Do you have any boxes?”  
You shake your head.  
“Huuuh… hold on, let's just take my bag, then… we can do several trips if we need to.”  
“… Yuuma, it's not necessary…”  
He looks up at you from his half-emptied bag.  
“But don't you _want_ to?”  
You pause. It's a strange question, and requires at least a bit of thought.  
“… I suppose I do.”  
He grins.  
“Then let's go!”

Despite your fears, there's no one there when you reach your old room. You click on the light and enter, assessing what you would need to take first.  
Practicality would dictate you go for the clothes, but you find yourself edging towards the books first.  
“You like to read?”  
“Yes. These are only a fraction; most of what I read comes from the school library. But these…” you step forward, lay fingertips on one of the spines, “these are… special, I suppose.”  
The one thing you own that is truly yours, bought on the few days you've been allowed to spend outside.   
Next to you, Yuuma steps forward.  
“Well, let's get them first, then. You want to put them in the bag?”  
“No, that would force us to carry the clothes in our arms. Let's put the clothes in the bag instead. We can carry these and my school things in piles.”  
“Sounds good to me. Where'd you put your clothes then?”

You empty your clothes from the dresser and put them down in neat piles, examining Yuuma's bag to determine how to make them fit most efficiently. He looms over the piles, bending forward with hands on his knees.  
“… that's it?”  
“I don't need more than to make it from one laundry day to the next. And besides, most of the dresser used to be taken up by my brother.” He bends more, into your field of vision, and you continue: “Ninety-six is… a lot more interested in fashion than I am.”  
“Oh. Is that his name?” he asks, once more stating the obvious.  
“Yes. He found his own sacrifice a few years ago, and they moved to their own room.”  
You start packing the trousers at the bottom of the bag.  
“So you've been alone since then?”  
“It was a relief. He's difficult to live with.” You reach for the pile of underwear, sliding them in the empty spaces on the sides. “Vector keeps him occupied, which I think everyone is grateful for.”  
Yuuma chuckles, a little awkwardly.  
“That kind of sibling rivalry huh? I thought twins had a special bond or something.”  
“Understanding one another doesn't mean it makes us closer or more compatible. If anything, it makes the discrepancies even harder to ignore. I think separating us was for the best.”  
He nods, and sits down next to you as you finish packing.  
“Still, this room's kinda depressing. Why're the windows so small? You'd think you're in a basement or something.”  
“Safety. We were young when we first came here.”  
You don't say the rest of it, that Ninety-six had tried to break out several times until they broke that out of him (although you personally think that they're deluding themselves; Ninety-six has always been good at biding his time), and that the windows were designed to be impossible to slip out of.   
To your relief, he doesn't ask, and doesn't notice the bars outside either.  
“So does he look like you, then?”  
“His hair is darker. And he tends to dress… colourfully.”  
“Is that bad?”  
“There is wearing colours, and there is Ninety-six. You'll understand when you meet him.” You close the bag. “Let's get the books in order.”

To be fair, there's not much putting in order to do. You carefully take them down from the small bookshelf, and pass them to Yuuma, who, to your relief, puts them in neat piles on your desk, without changing the order. He's fidgety with curiosity, and you catch him tilting his head to the side to look at some titles, but he doesn't open them, and you feel grateful.  
“So how old are you exactly?” he finally asks, frowning slightly in what you think might be concentration. “Eighteen?”  
“Seventeen. I will be eighteen in September.”  
“Hey, that's not too long after mine!”  
“How old are you, then?”  
You have a hard time situating him precisely. The height and childish demeanour make your usual references obsolete.  
“Thirteen. Man, no wonder you look so grown-up.”  
You raise an eyebrow, amused.  
“Do I?”  
He blushes.  
“I mean— well yeah? Maybe it's cause you're so serious,” he adds, all but gluing his words together in his hurry.  
“I'm afraid it's in my nature,” you tell him, taking quiet amusement from his fluster.  
“You say that but you're totally teasing me right now,” he pouts.  
“Am I? My apologies.”  
He falls silent, observing you. You shrug off the discomfort of eyes on your body and busy yourself with the last remaining books, checking the shelf for any forgotten bookmarks.  
“… hey, Astral?”  
“Yes?”  
“Are you okay with this?”  
“With what?”  
“This whole… partner thing.”  
You turn to study him.  
“I have been waiting ever since I was four. There was never a different path for me.” He looks away and you sigh. “Maybe I should consider it a blessing.”  
At least there was no other life for you to be dragged from. Based on his reactions, you think he probably did. Whatever those ambitions were.  
Yuuma stays silent. He looks upset, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable. You've never been good at comforting people, and in most cases, you haven't tried.  
But Yuuma… despite only meeting you one hour ago, he has been making efforts for you. You think you should at least attempt to do the same.  
“Do not worry,” you say, quietly. “My brother and I are by far the strongest in this school. This may not be what you expected, but you will not have to struggle from the bottom to make your way up. As long as we learn to work together, we will be hard to beat.” You pause. “And I will try my best on my side.”  
He looks up, apparently surprised, and then smiles.  
“Yeah!”  
You try to give him a smile of your own.  
“Well, let me gather my supplies, and we'll be off.”  
He nods, and leaves you to it until his stomach growls.  
You raise an eyebrow at him as he flusters.  
“Hey, I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast, okay?”  
“I'll show you to the cafeteria after we've put these down in the new room.”  
“Great!”

You step into your old bathroom for a few seconds to take your toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush, add them to the bag, and leave, the books piled on your arms and school supplies on Yuuma's. You inform the first member of cleaning staff you meet that you've already moved your belongings from your old room, and that they can simply clean it when they want to, hope that the lessened workload will make them grateful enough to not report your initiative to the teachers, and go on your way with Yuuma.  
He's surprisingly careful in carrying your notebooks and pencil case. You'd expected him to move around too much, but it seems having something to do and focus on calms him down. You file the information in your brain for later use.  
Unlocking the door while carrying a backpack and a pile of books proves difficult even for you, so you put it delicately down, and open the door for Yuuma so he can put his own pile down on the desk.  
“… which one do you want?” he asks, hesitating.  
“Either is fine.”  
“But I chose the bed already!”  
“I don't really have a preference in this case. And the bed fits me either way.”  
He looks at you for a few seconds, then puts your school supplies on the desk closest to the window.  
“I don't spend that much time studying,” he explains, fidgeting slightly. “Might as well leave you the one that gets decent light.”  
“You have a point.”  
You put down the books next to his pile, and head to the dresser to empty his bag and give it back. Unlike him, you actually sort your clothes into the drawers straight away, holding yourself back from commenting on the things he left on the ground earlier. He'd been in a hurry to empty it to help you, after all.   
It makes you cringe, but you can't deny his good will.  
When you turn back to him, he's sitting on your chair and looking sideways at the titles of your books.  
“This is soooo out of my range.”  
“You don't read?”  
“Not a lot of actual books—more manga and stuff. And I keep up with a few websites, about a game I like. I do read a few, but this is way above my level.”  
It surprises you. Those are still novels. Escapism. You never considered they could be seen as difficult, unlike some more technical readings.  
You wonder what he would think of those.  
“Well, let me put them in order and we can go eat.”  
“Sure! I'll put this stuff in its place, then.”  
He picks up his items, and you sigh in relief.

You reach the cafeteria, and hear an awestruck, drawn-out “wooooah” next to you.  
You turn to watch him, surprised and almost amused by his open mouth and wide eyes.  
“What's the matter?”  
“It's _big_.”  
“Of course. Most students live here, as do the staff. People need to eat varied meals, and they don't have lunch boxes to bring from home.”  
“That's still impressive. And I saw vending machines too?”  
“This school trains fighters. Some of us probably eat more than the norm. Stress and pain take a toll on one's body.”  
He winces.  
“Right.”  
His discomfort doesn't last long. As you walk inside the large hall, his excitement at the different food options only grows.  
“Wait, and all of this is _free_?”  
“It's included in your schooling, yes.”  
“ _Sweet_.”  
“Don't make yourself sick,” you warn him. Not that it's any of your business, but starting your first paired training battles with a sick sacrifice isn't exactly on your to-do list. “And it's open all day from 5am onward, but remember curfew. If you want a snack at night, plan ahead.”  
He giggles, and you almost think he hasn't listened to you until he answers:  
“I'll try to remember.”  
You sigh. Trying is better than nothing, you try to remind yourself.  
Of course, this concept only applies to others.  
Yuuma grabs your wrist to pull you along, but stops when you tense.  
“Sorry—” he lets go, “I was gonna get something, you coming along?” He chuckles, awkwardly enough that even you notice it. “I'm not used to the place yet.”  
You sigh.  
“I hope you're not expecting me to order in your stead.”  
“I don't! But it's easier with a friend.”  
“… all right.”  
You walk to the very short line, Yuuma following right behind you, and order miso soup. Behind you, Yuuma orders a selection of onigiri, but not before asking about each and every one of the flavours available.  
It's only then that you realised he's used the word 'friend.' But he's still in conversation with the lady handing out the meals, and by the time he's done, the impulsive urge to ask him why has passed.  
What a strange boy.

The meal passes quickly enough. Yuuma dives into his onigiri with impressive speed and enthusiasm, and you would almost have made it out within a few minutes if the supernatural way you and your brother seem to find each other at will hadn't come into play.  
As it is, you're barely finishing the last solid bits in your soup (and Yuuma his fourth ball) when a familiar voice calls out.  
“Oh Astral~”  
You keep on your blankest face as Ninety-six rests hands on your shoulders and leans over your right one, all but purring.  
“I heard someone found their sacrifice,” he drawls. “And you didn't even think to warn your dear brother?”  
“You seem sufficiently informed even without my intervention.”  
“Rude. You could tell me yourself so I don't have to hear from others.”  
“I was busy.”  
“But you're always busy.” He looks up, and you _feel_ the moment his eyes catch Yuuma's, by the way he tenses with excitement, even before he straightens and walks over to Yuuma's side. “And what have we here? Are you mister Mysterious Sacrifice, then?” He slides into the seat next to Yuuma's and leans on him. “What's your name, sweetheart?”  
To Yuuma's credit, he tenses but doesn't panic.  
“Yuuma.”  
“How cute. Sorry you got stuck with Astral. If you ever want someone who doesn't have a stick up his ass, come talk to us, okay? We'll take good care of you.”  
“'Us'?”  
“Well, me and my partner, of course! Vector!” he calls out, straightening. “Get your ass over here.”  
“Keep going and you're not getting anything,” Vector's deadpan voice comes from behind you.  
Ninety-six sighs.  
“So cruel, all of you. At least Yuuma here is cute.” He drapes himself over Yuuma's shoulder. “See what I have to deal with?”  
While Yuuma struggles to find an appropriate answer, Vector reaches the table and slams down a can of juice and sweet bread in front of Ninety-six, before sitting with his own coffee.  
“Next time, you're getting it yourself. And order me around again and you'll pay for it. Who's the boss here, huh?”  
“Aw, but you gotta take good care of your pet, right? Can't fight on an empty stomach.”  
Vector snorts.  
“Some pet you are. Start with obeying, then we'll see. And get your hands off him.”  
“What, are you jealous?”  
“About _you_?” Vector asks with a raised eyebrow.  
“See,” Ninety-six sneaks into Yuuma's ear in a theatrical whisper, “Vector's into the rough approach to discipline.”  
“Stop scaring the newbie,” Vector says, completely unphased by the accusations while Yuuma blushes.  
“Excuse you, I'm trying to warn him. Astral's the scary one here.”  
“Don't you two have anything better to do?” you grit out.  
Ninety-six leans back.  
“See? Scary.”  
“I think he's fine...” Yuuma pipes up, although more quiet than he had been so far.  
Ninety-six whistles.  
“Well! He's not completely whipped! Would you look at that!” He grins. “Or maybe he's _too_ whipped already? What did you do to him, Astral?”  
You glare, but to your surprise, Yuuma just sighs and takes another bite out of his onigiri, ignoring them.  
“Awww, and now he's all silent again. It's you guys' fault.”  
Vector rolls his eyes. You follow Yuuma's example and take a sip of your broth, although by now you're too tense to really swallow anything.  
Ninety-six pouts.  
“You're no fun. Fine. Come on, Vector.”  
“Who said I was coming with you?”  
“You haven't even _started_ the damn coffee! Come _on_ , I have something to show you.”  
Vector smirks and stands, Ninety-six following.  
“Well in that case. See you later, guys. Yuuma,” he adds, blowing a mocking kiss in his direction.  
“Don't hesitate to fight us someday,” Ninety-six honeys in his ear. “I'll treat you real nice.”  
Before you have to resist the urge to challenge him to fight on the spot, he hops off after Vector.  
When they're finally out of the cafeteria, Yuuma relaxes with a sigh.  
“… well that was… something.”  
You sigh.  
“I apologise.”  
“Huh?”  
“He's my brother, I should have more control over him.”  
Yuuma chuckles.  
“Hey, siblings can be hell. It's not your fault.”  
“You sound like you know a lot on the subject.”  
“U-hu! I have a big sister. She's downright scary when she's mad.”  
You don't think he looks particularly scared at the idea, but you don't push. Instead, you finish the rest of your soup, and to your relief, Yuuma follows suit, opening his last onigiri.  
Your instincts tell you to get up and leave the moment you're done. But… Yuuma is your sacrifice. For better or for worse, you're supposed to follow him.  
And for now, at least, you expect your presence will avoid unpleasant interactions, if not attention.  
You decide to wait. It's stressful and unpleasant, and within less than a minute you're calculating powers of two in your head to keep yourself from drumming your fingers.  
 _Keep your head cool. Do not show your emotions._  
Well, pain is a good reminder, at least. The memory of it is easy enough to call to mind.  
“… Astral?”  
You snap back to attention, moving your eyes towards him, head still leaned on your hand.  
“Yes?”  
“Are you okay? You looked…” He frowns. “… I dunno, not there.”  
“I'm fine. Are you done?”  
He nods. You let your arm fall and stand up.  
“Then let me show you the rest of the school.”  
You should go back to your room, probably. It's what you would have done had you been alone, and Yuuma probably needs to settle in more. But the idea of staying in a room with another person for hours on end almost makes you panic, only your training keeping yourself stable.  
It's weak, and you are angry at yourself for it, but you can't make yourself yet.  
You set your tray on the cleaning pile, tidy up its contents, and wait near the door for Yuuma to follow.

It isn't quite curfew when you get back to the room, but close, and you thank the extensive campus for it.   
Yuuma is yawning. His eyelids are low, sometimes fluttering as if he's forcing himself awake, but it does little to make him look any less asleep.  
He looks, in conclusion, dangerously vulnerable.  
To your surprise, it makes you worried more than irritated.  
“Are you all right?”  
“Huh?” He blinks up at you, then smiles. “Yeah! Just sleepy.”  
How carefree. What must his life have been like, before coming here? You can't even imagine it.  
“Will you be able to sleep if I only keep my bed's lamp on? I usually read for a while.”  
“Oh, yeah. I used to sleep with the tv on. Still do, sometimes.”  
You look at him questioningly, but he only laughs and looks away.  
“So yeah! Don't worry about the light!”  
“Thank you.” You sigh. “I might stay up a fair amount, but I will try not to be loud.”  
It's his turn to look at you.  
“At night?”  
You nod.  
“I sleep relatively little, from what I understand. It's a habit.” He doesn't need to know that having someone in your space while sleeping will make it worse. You're not supposed to cause problems for your sacrifice, and guilt counts as a problem, especially on someone as emotionally volatile as he seems to be.  
“Insomnia?”  
“It has been like this as far as I remember. If insomnia it is, it's persistent.”  
He winces.  
“That sounds tough.”  
“Don't worry about it.” You reach the door and unlock it, opening it for him. “You can have the bathroom first. I doubt you'll spend as much time in it as Ninety-six.”  
He laughs.  
“Is he bad?”  
“I've known him to spend half an hour on his hair.”  
“Wow.”  
Despite yourself, you smile faintly. He grins back, as if proud of himself. For what, you have no idea.  
“Well! I'm going in, then. Seeya in a bit.”  
He hops up two bars of the ladder, grabs his pyjamas from the side of his bed, and skips into the bathroom, with far too much energy for someone who was falling asleep on his feet less than five minutes ago.  
You sigh, and sort through your supplies for your homework. No point in getting behind, and you need something to focus on.

You're still awake when his snores are first interrupted by a plea to his parents, but you wait and the talking stops, his breathing evening out again.  
You go to bed and don't mention it in the morning.


	2. Claws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next day, from Yuuma's point of view.

You're sampling the breakfast choices this _crazy_ cafeteria has the morning after your arrival when Astral, once more bearing a pitifully small selection of food on his tray, sits into the chair opposite you and asks, completely casually:  
“Yuuma. What are your greatest fears?”  
You almost choke on your food.  
“ _What?_ ” you splutter around a mouthful—promptly swallowing it before any other accidents happen.  
Astral tilts his head slightly.  
“Was my question unclear? I'm asking what things scare you.”  
“Why would you ask that? Are you trying to prank me or something?”  
“… I have no reason to prank you,” he says, and even through his poker face you think you feel something close. Damnit. “We're having your first training battle this afternoon. I'm trying to arrange for opponents whose style will not be upsetting for you. Unless you would rather battle my brother and Vector.”  
“… oh. Sorry.” You look away for a second. “Thanks for thinking about that.”  
“It's only normal. I don't want you to be traumatised by your first fight. It would make later training much harder, and possibly put you at a disadvantage indefinitely, if opponents know to exploit that weakness.” He looks up at you. “That is why I need to know if you have any specific phobias, as well as general trends. Are you good at handling fear? Pain? Restrictions? Are you vulnerable against suggestion? Prone to self-doubts? All those factors are important.”  
“I—”  
You try to think about it, to voice your thoughts. But—thinking about your fears only make them rise from your gut, even before you can identify them. A sickening, mindless panic.  
You don't want to think about it.  
“I'm not sure—I can tell you what I'm _not_ scared of, I think?”  
He nods. You take a big breath, try to think about scary things that don't actually scare you.   
“… I'm good at handling pain? I got hurt a lot as a kid, so I'm used to it. Not afraid of speed or high places… Not afraid of the dark either… I'm good at standing back up after I've been hurt, too?”  
He sighs.  
“Well, that's a start at least…”  
“And I don't _like_ crawlies but I can handle them!”  
To your surprise, he actually chuckles.  
“Unfortunately, a lot of psychological attacks will be more… insidious than that. Concepts or emotions rather than physical dangers. But if your pain tolerance is high and you're good at dealing with animals…” he gives you a questioning look, then goes on once you've nodded in confirmation, “maybe Unleashed would be a good match. They're a sensible pair, too, and unlikely to bully a newcomer.”  
“Unleashed?”  
“A pair of two girls, roughly your age. They're rather skilled for their age, and their fighter favours physical attacks, as well as creating a feeling of being hunted. Can you handle that?”  
You nod.  
“I think so.”  
“Then I'll try and find them for this afternoon. If you don't see me at lunch, return to our room once you've eaten and I'll pick you up there.”  
Orders, again. But from the completely matter of fact way he says them, you think he hasn't even realised that he's being forceful.  
You nod anyway.  
“… how come you're the one organising this, by the way?”  
“The Professor in charge of our unit has given me free rein with your early training. A test of both our abilities, I suspect.”  
That's weird.  
“But you've been there for years, right? Shouldn't they already know yours?”  
Something flashes on his face for a second, but it's gone before you can identify it.  
“… you could say that they're testing whether the training they gave me bore fruit. Harmony between fighter and sacrifice is important; letting me guide you through your first fights is not illogical. Besides,” he adds, finally looking at you again, “you seem like the kind of person who learns from experience better than from theory. Am I wrong?”  
You chuckle.  
“No, you're spot-on on that one. It'd be nice to know what to _expect_ , though. The whole 'oh are you good at pain or being scared' thing is kinda ominous.”  
“… you have a point. Would you rather I explain now, or over lunch?”  
“Now sounds good.” He didn't seem too keen on being with you for lunch, and you don't want to force him to be there. There's already an air of distrust around him that makes you uncomfortable, as if, despite his words about waiting for you, you're like stuffed newspaper in his shoes, making his life fit him wrong, not a real handicap but an annoyance. “I actually woke up on time for once.”  
He raises an eyebrow.  
“Are you usually a late riser?”  
“I oversleep sometimes. Don't always hear the alarm.”  
“You should be careful with that. Some teachers won't take it well.”  
You sigh, trying not to pout.  
“I know, that part's not new.”  
He falls silent, and it takes a few tense moments for you to realise he probably won't go on without prompting.  
“… so, the fighting?”  
“Ah, yes. I'm sorry.” He straightens slightly. “You know that fighting is done with spells based on words and the images they create, aren't you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Every unit has their style, but what it comes down to is: a fighter's words will affect the reality within the spell field. This is based on their ability, on the opposing fighter's reactions, as they can counter-attack using the same spell, or block, and on the participants' imagination. As such, the exact nature of the produced spell will actually somewhat depend on the person on the receiving end of it.”  
“So, uh, if someone uses a stabbing spell and I'm scared of daggers and they immediately come to mind, the spell might take that form unless _they_ really really thought hard about a longsword?”  
“Essentially, yes. Now, the goal in attacking an opponent's sacrifice isn't necessarily pain or harm. To win a battle, the only thing necessary is to restrain the sacrifice. If they are completely restrained, they lose. Of course, the resilience of a sacrifice's mind is most important. Fear will make them more vulnerable, panic makes them an easy prey. And pain, as you're probably aware, usually creates fear. Humans who are safe from the instinct to run away from pain are… extremely rare.”  
“… when you say restrains, do you mean like actual ones? Do I have to worry about being handcuffed?”  
“That's a possibility. Again, the exact shape will depend on the participants on both sides.” He pauses, fidgets with his tray subtly. “Note that some restrains will affect the fighter too. If you are too overwhelmed, I might be slowed down.”  
“Great,” you sigh, resisting the urge to melt down and rest your chin on the table.  
“Unleashed is, ironically, fond of leash and collar imagery. Is that enough information to prepare yourself?”  
You nod, feeling the pout on your lips and not really caring.  
“Yeah, yeah. I'll be good and take my beating.”  
He frowns.  
“If we fight properly, you won't have to.”  
You look away.  
“… sorry. It's just frustrating.”  
“That you will get hurt?”  
“That I can't fight myself.”  
A pause. When you finally look back at him, he's observing you with what you think is curiosity, and the most gentle expression you've seen on him so far.  
“… a sacrifice is not entirely powerless,” he finally says. “In fact, you can direct the flow of the fight, now just with orders, but by casting your own spells, although those will generally affect my own strength and the overall framework of the fight rather than have direct, immediate offensive effects on the opponent. But being able to do that is entirely dependent on how well we can work together.” His mouth doesn't change expression, but something almost like a smile reaches his eyes. “I suggest we start there.”  
You look at him. He's… entirely too serious, but that itself tells you that he means what he's saying. You're starting to doubt that Astral can actually lie.  
You smile and offer him your hand.  
“Okay. Let's do the introductions over, then. My name's Yuuma, and my favourite food is onigiri.”  
After a second of hesitation, he reaches across the table with his left hand and takes yours, his scar covering yours.  
You grin.  
“C'mon, tell me something about yourself.”  
“My name is Astral...” He hesitates. “… I do enjoy coffee.”  
“I bet you take it black.”  
This time, a hint of a smile flashes on his lips.  
“I add a little bit of sugar, usually.”  
This guy isn't a robot after all!  
“Well what about food? Any favourites?”  
“… I'm not sure. There are several I eat regularly, but I don't know if they'd count as favourites.”  
“Oh yeah, about that, do you always eat so little?”  
“By my standards, you're the one who eats a lot.” He pauses, frowns slightly. “Eating too much is… uncomfortable.”  
“Huh? But you're the one who was talking about needing fuel to fight!”  
“That may be true, but being distracted by pain or discomfort isn't good either.” He sighs. “If you really must know, I eat soup and omelette fairly often. Are you satisfied?”  
You pout.  
“Well what about sweets?”  
“I don't eat them.”  
“What!?”  
Something else crosses his face, a hint of something darker, and you think you've actually hit a nerve. But in a good way or a bad way? You have no idea.  
“… I never got into the habit as a child. They are available, but not usually a part of the main meal, either.”  
 _You're seriously missing out_ , is what you want to say. But you remember the look on his face and don't push.  
“Well, fine. What's your favourite book, then?”

He finds you again at lunch, right when you're finishing off your meal, and you decide to wait for him.  
He eats absently, like he isn't there at all, his mind focused on something far off. It's kind of sad.  
Not that you can say much, today. You'd spent most of your own meal ruminating on how hard the lessons were.   
You follow him, afterwards, to what seems to be one of many training rooms.  
“I booked an individual one for today's fight,” Astral tells you. “This way, there will be less risk of interference from other groups. You can focus on the fight fully.”  
Somehow, that feels more ominous than reassuring, but on the other hand, you find yourself pretty pumped.  
After all the talk about it, you'd been itching to actually _fight_. Even if you're only a sacrifice.  
He nods you towards a door, and you open it and walk in.  
“… Yuuma?”  
You freeze. The voice that greeted you is familiar, and calls to mind memories of giggles and lazy summer evenings. You look towards it and watch a girl with green hair and determined eyes stride towards you.  
“K-Kotori!?”  
She grins.  
“It _is_ you! I didn't know you were here!”  
“I— Kotori what are you doing here?”  
“I'm a student, of course. I've been here for a few months now.”  
You blink. The last you'd seen her, over a year ago, she'd been climbing into a car to move away, and you'd been left alone once again, without even your best friend. You'd exchanged a couple of letters, with difficulty, and some phonecalls, more easily, but a few months ago, those had dwindled to almost nothing.  
Despite yourself, you feel tears tickling at your eyes.  
“Kotori…”  
She smiles, and you find yourself gripping her hands, grinning excitedly.  
“Y-Yuuma, come on,” she says, blushing, but her hands don't pull back.  
“I'm so glad to see you! Are you okay?”  
“Well… yeah? I mean, it was a bit hard at first, but I'm fine...”  
“Oooh, is that the famous Yuuma?”  
A girl you hadn't noticed yet all but leans over Kotori's shoulder, and you almost frown at her (who is she to treat your best friend like that) until Kotori rolls her eyes like she so often did at you and lets go of one of your hands to push the girl's head away.  
“Yes, yes it's him. Yuuma, this is Cathy. She's my partner.”  
“Purrleased to meet you!”   
“Purr...” You blink. The girl named Cathy has apparently dedicated herself to matching her name. The ears aren't surprising—she looks roughly your age, after all—but her haircut seems designed to show them off, and she's complimented them with a bell collar and paw-designed gloves. How she gets away with wearing them to school, you have no idea. This place really is strange. “Er, pleased to meet you too.”  
“I've heard a lot about you,” Cathy says with a grin.  
Kotori blushes and pulls her back.  
“Stop being dumb. We're here for a fight, right?”  
“That's right,” Astral says as he joins you. You turn towards him in surprise—you hadn't even noticed him holding back. “Although I didn't expect you two to know each other.”  
“Oh, yeah. Kotori's a childhood friend.” You chuckle awkwardly. “Although I don't need to introduce you, huh?”  
“We have fought a couple of times,” he agrees.  
“Astral gives good fighting advice,” Kotori adds with a smile.  
That surprises you. He really didn't seem like the kind of person who'd give advice to others unless it profits him.  
“The two of you make rather enjoyable sparring partners,” Astral answers with what you think could almost be a smile, if his face ever _moved_. “Although,” he adds, and this time you think he _did_ smile for a microsecond, “I'm afraid now I have a sacrifice with me, I might be out of your league.”  
Cathy's cheeks puff, and you can't help but picture her as an angry cat.  
“Oh yeah? We'll see about that!”  
Kotori sighs.  
“Don't forget this is a training fight, Cathy. Yuuma's never done this before.”  
“What, you want me to go easy on him?” she answers with a smirk.  
“I—give him time to get used to things and see it coming, at least,” Kotori sighs with the face of someone who doesn't want to fight at all.  
Honestly, you kind of get it. You see your best friend for the first time in months, and you don't even get time to talk? Rude.  
But on the other hand… Kotori was always so nice, but scarily determined when it mattered. You can't help but be excited at the thought of finding out what she's like in a fight.  
“Shall we start, then?” Astral asks, standing at your side.  
“You're on! Let's go, Kotori!”  
She grabs Kotori's hand and stands next to her, half a step forward.  
“We are Unleashed,” Cathy declares, mouth spreading into a grin that feels downright predatory. “I declare a spell battle.”  
“We accept,” Astral answers without missing a beat. “Battle system deployed.”  
Around you, you sense more than you see the air quiver, like the space around you is thickening, tightening. Like the room is a space of its own. From Cathy—and Kotori, you realise belatedly—you feel a wave of aggressive power, two beats in unison, washing against your skin and taking your breath away a little. From Astral…  
From Astral, much more focused, cold, sharp heat like white hot metal, all centered on his body. You gulp. If _that_ spread the way the girls' did…  
You're kicked out of your thoughts by the sight of Cathy giggling as Kotori carefully cups the back of her head and kisses her.  
What.  
 _What?_  
You don't need Astral's white heat anymore, because you're already blushing pretty furiously.  
Was Kotori into girls? You hadn't talked about it much when she left, last you knew she wasn't crushing on anybody—more importantly, why didn't she just introduce Cathy as her girlfriend if that's what they were—  
While you're standing dumbstruck, Astral reaches for your hand and pulls on it slightly, turning towards you expectantly.  
“Yuuma.”  
You blink.  
“Huh?”  
“I would rather do without it myself, but at this point, we are not in tune enough to pass on a physical expression to the connection.”  
“… huh?”  
And then you get it.  
“Wait, _what_?”  
“Come on, Yuuma,” Cathy calls, holding back giggles. “Don't be shy!”  
Astral just sighs.  
“I...” You swallow. “ _Augh._ Okay, fine, is the cheek all right?”  
“I suppose it will have to do.”  
You brace yourself, push yourself up (why is he so _tall_ , anyway?), and press a short kiss to his cheek.  
A wave of power hits you, and knocks your breath away.  
You gasp. Astral's hand tightens on your own, surprisingly strong and secure, and it's then that you realise that this power comes from him. But instead of hurting like you'd imagined, his power seems to run through you like it does him.  
You look up at him. There's something almost fierce in the way he looks ahead. You're almost glad he's not looking at you.  
“Your move,” he tells Kotori and Cathy.  
“My pleasure,” Cathy grins. And then, as she opens her mouth, her voice seems to fill the entire room, the entire world, resonating around and inside you. “ _Rend_.”  
Before you can do anything, a wave of energy slams into you, clawing through you with burning pain. You try to cry out, breath knocked out, and curl up on yourself, but only one arm folds, the other held tight by Astral's hand in yours.  
He steps slightly in front of you.  
“Carve and hold,” Cathy continues, “claws will pin our prey in place!”  
“Buffer,” Astral counters, voice cold and even and almost quiet with calm. He extends his other arm in front of him, palm forward. “The claws that sink will only get caught, stuck in what they would have carved. You will not move.”  
And as he speaks, the pain lessens, as if the burning energy had stopped. But it hasn't disappeared, you realise once you can breathe again. It's all around you, as if frozen in place, and from the other side of the room, you hear Cathy snarl.  
You look up. Kotori's hands are held by thick cuffs, a chain linking them and ending around one of Cathy's own wrists.  
“Kotori!”  
She gives you a half-smile, fighting to get her breath back.  
“It's okay! Worry about yourself first.”  
“But—”  
“ _Bite!_ ” Cathy roars.   
“Cathy wait—” Kotori warns, taking a step towards her, but she's already started her next line of spells.  
“Clench, trap, break!”  
The air thickens around you, and with a wave of panic you realise that it's about to close down on you. The image of fangs around your neck rises in your mind, and you take in a sharp breath, ready to cry out—  
 _No. I can't panic—_  
“Open mouths invite gags,” Astral says, voice rising this time. “They slide between your jaws and hold them apart. Your words and fangs are _sealed_.”  
All around you, the air seems to grind, strain, like heavy metal under pressure. Cathy lets out a cry and stumbles forward for a step, and when you look up, Kotori's mouth is obstructed, fabric running around head head and between her lips.  
Cathy shudders.  
“I—”  
“You should have retreated while you had the chance,” Astral says, letting his arm fall to the side for a second. “It's my turn now. _I twist_. A predator who cannot move is more helpless than a prey animal. The claws you took out bind you, and now they pull, and twist your body with their prison.”   
Kotori lets out a keen as her legs are bound, and for a split-second you see actual fear in her eyes—and then Cathy's own limbs are cuffed, not completely restrained, but slowed by their link to Kotori's own.  
Astral raises his arm again, and you turn to watch him. See him bring his hand to face level.  
“And with a lurch they snap.” Snaps his fingers. “Declawed.”  
Kotori falters, and the suffocating pressure around you dissipates. You take a panicked step forward, and are held back by Astral's hand.  
“Kotori! Astral, I need to—”  
“Just a second.”  
You're about to argue at him, but right as you open your mouth, the space around you seems to shiver and go back to normal, no longer an isolated world. Astral nods and lets go of your hand.  
You run forward. The restrains on Kotori have disappeared along with the spell space, and she's standing, leaning on Cathy for support.  
“Kotori! Are you all right?”  
“I'm fine… he wasn't kidding… that was…”  
“You saw my counterattack coming, didn't you?” Astral asks, stepping closer.  
She nods.  
“Sorry,” Cathy pouts. “But _you_ could have held back a little,” she adds, frowning at Astral.  
He raises an eyebrow.  
“Were you holding back?”  
“… well no.”  
“Then there was no reason for me to. I needed to keep Yuuma safe as much as possible.”  
“You say that but you let him take that first hit.”  
You stare at her. Then at Astral, as the meaning behind her words reaches you.  
“… wait, you could've blocked that?”  
“Of course. But you needed to experience it at least once. Against a stronger opponent, I might not have the luxury of guarding.”  
The casualness with which he says it leaves you dumbstruck. But Astral, completely oblivious, turns back to Cathy.  
“Your sacrifice is good at reading the flow of battle. Be less hasty and she can help you.”  
“Easy for _you_ to say.” She sighs. “Well, whatever. I managed to land a restrain on him, I'm satisfied.”  
You turn to her.  
“Huh?”  
“You didn't notice? You had something around your neck for a second. Did you panic?”  
“I...” You take in a breath, remember the moment before you'd gotten back to your senses. “For a bit, yeah.”  
Kotori takes your hand. Her smile is a little tired, but warm, and you feel tension you hadn't realised you still held drain from your arms and shoulders.  
“… sorry,” you tell her again. Even though you're not the one who attacked her, you still feed bad.  
She chuckles.  
“It's okay. You get used to it. What about you, are you all right?”  
You nod.  
“I didn't get hit much…”  
“You did well for a first time,” she says.  
“Well that's because Astral guarded, right?”  
“Yes and no,” Astral says. “As Cathy said, your own emotional and mental stability influence the damage you will take. That first hit was also to gauge your reactions. You do handle pain well. And fear too, it seems.”  
You shoot him a Look. It seems Conversations need to be had about warning your partner beforehand when you plan to have stuff done to them.  
“Well,” Kotori says, straightening and taking a couple of shaky steps before standing strong again. “I need a drink. Who's with me?”

You get drinks from the cafeteria: juice for you and Kotori, soda for Cathy, and Astral sits next to you with a cup of coffee.  
Within a few minutes, Astral excuses himself to go study, and leaves with his cup, but not before checking whether you'll be fine without him. It takes you by surprise, but you smile and wave him off. Of course you'll be fine. Go do your thing, Astral.  
You're left with Kotori and Cathy, and before long, Cathy winks at you and mentions catching up with a friend. You stare at her, trying to figure out what the wink was for, and wave when she leaves the table.  
Kotori sighs and slumps slightly against the table.  
“… you sure you're okay?” you ask her.  
“Yeah, I'm fine. That was just… an overwhelming fight. He really did get more powerful with you there.”  
“Do you fight him often?”  
“Not _often_ , but a few times. He… a lot of people don't talk to him. They're scared, or they don't like the way he talks. So we're some of the only people who'll spar with him outside schedule. Although he was fighting alone until now…”  
You look at your juice gloomily.  
“… he is nicer than you would expect, but it's… more in actions than in words.”  
You look up.  
“Really? But he… I mean look how you ended up!”  
She chuckles.  
“That's the game, Yuuma. Honestly, I do think he was holding back. Or rather, he had potential to do much worse. He controlled and restrained us straight away instead of toying or causing pain for the hell of it.” She winces. “Not everyone does.”  
“… that's kind messed up.”  
“There are cruel people everywhere. This place is no exception.” She looks up at you and smiles. “I'm still surprised to see you here, though.”  
“Some guys from the school came to talk to Grandma like a month ago. Apparently they noticed me while I was in the hospital.”  
“The hospital? Are you—”  
You laugh.  
“I'm fine! I just went to the ER because I hit my head. They kept me a night 'on observation' or something.”  
“… Yuuma, what did you do this time?”  
“… I fell from the roof,” you admit.  
“What!?”  
“It was slippery, okay!”  
“What were you doing on the roof in the first place?”  
“… the same I've ever done? I go there when I can't sleep.”  
“… oh.”  
You shake your head.  
“But yeah I'm fine. Just some bruises and a big head bump, and that was ages ago. It's all gone now. But apparently they had someone there who noticed my hand.” You open it in front of her, displaying your name. “It was fainter back then, though.”  
“I never expected you of all people to be Astral's partner.” She grins. “Although 'Senseless' fits you perfectly at least. Mr I Climb Roofs.”  
“Hey!”  
She smiles.  
“Well, at least you're doing pretty good. Although I'm not surprised. You've always been resilient.”  
You frown.  
“Why's my pain tolerance the best thing going for me? He said something like that too.”  
She doesn't answer, studying you instead.  
“… what?” you finally ask when just being looked at starts making you uncomfortable.  
“… you don't like being a sacrifice, huh?”  
“Well _duh_. I don't _do_ anything, I just stand there. What's the point.” You sigh. “It's frustrating.”  
She gives you a small smile.  
“I'm not surprised.”  
“How do _you_ do it? I mean, you were tied up and gagged just now. Not exactly fun.” You pause. “Unless you're, like. Into that.” A sudden doubt. “… are you?”  
She blushes.  
“What!? No!”  
“Hey, I'm just asking.”  
She rolls her eyes.  
“In a fight against Astral, I already knew I was gonna end up like that. Helps to be prepared. But going back to your question… For me, it helps that I know much of the fight actually depends on me.”  
“Huh?”  
“Like Astral said. A fighter can't do anything if their sacrifice just panics and shuts down. If I'm strong, then she can be strong.” A small smile. “Don't judge our ability just by today. Astral is one of the best. But we're actually pretty good. And we're good partly because Cathy can trust me to weather what's thrown at us. She's aggressive, so we don't defend much. It has a cost. But it works.”  
“Huh. … I guess.” You sigh. “Well, doesn't seem like they're giving me a choice, anyway. Seriously, what's _up_ with this school?”  
“Don't ask _me_.”  
“And training's good and all, but what are they training us _for_?”  
“I'm not even sure.” She looks at you, suddenly serious. “We haven't been told either. I think those who graduate might, or those who get sent away—but I'm relatively new. … maybe Astral would know? He's been here a while.”  
“Yeah, fourteen years apparently.”  
Her eyes widen.  
“That long?”  
“That's what he said. I don't think he's lying—he's too blunt to lie.”  
She frowns.  
“Well,” you sigh. “At least he doesn't seem like a bad guy. Just kind of an ass sometimes.”  
She giggles.  
“Yuuma, that's mean.”  
“What? It's true!”  
“You're not always the most tactful yourself,” she points out with a smile.  
“Yeah well—” you start, but your _I've got an excuse_ dies on your lips as you realise that you actually don't. You're younger than him, sure, but that would be admitting that he's more mature, and that's not happening.  
Her smile widens. You feel vaguely offended.  
“ _Anyway._ Tell me how you've been. It's been ages.”

When you get back to your room in the evening, Astral's already there, hair still damp from the shower, pyjamas slightly too big for him hanging from his shoulders. He's reading, sitting on his bed with his back to one of the poles.  
“… evening.”  
“Yuuma. You did good, earlier.”  
You blink.  
“I did?”  
“Yes. You kept your head through the fight. That's more than a lot can say.”  
“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” You swallow, then suddenly remember your earlier exasperation as he goes back to his book. “Oh yeah, about that.”  
“Yes?”  
“You could've _warned_ me before letting me take a hit. Especially if you were doing it on _purpose_.”  
Somehow, he manages to look genuinely surprised.  
“You were aware that this fight would likely involve pain, yes?”  
“Yeah? Still doesn't make it cool?”  
“Then what is the issue? You needed to experience it to be aware of how it would feel.”  
“It's just—” You sigh. “Look. At least warn me next time, okay?”  
“… all right. Although I don't plan to let anything pass from now on.”  
You nod.  
“Well—good.” You drop your bag on your desk. “You're done with the shower, right?”  
“Yes. You can go if you want.”  
 _I don't need you to tell me_ , you all but fume inwardly, but instead of voicing it, you just take a deep breath and head to the bathroom.


End file.
